


To Die of Thirst

by Hopetohell



Category: Immortals (2011)
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sex Pollen, Smut, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: This is not the first time you wanted, or the first time you deserved, but it’s the first time you’re going to get.Theseus gets into some sex pollen.
Relationships: Theseus/Reader, theseus/you
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	To Die of Thirst

The water is cool and sweet and it is poison, it has to be, but Theseus is thirsty and it makes him careless. It makes him push aside the sense of _this is wrong_ until the water is already inside, diffusing its poison out into his veins. He should’ve noticed: clear water with no animals around? Can’t be good. But here he is, and though there’s time to stop you drinking, it’s too late for him and 

Is this dying? His eyes are so wide and he doesn’t understand. This isn’t dying, not yet, not quite, but it will be. His blood is burning and he’s— gods above, is he hard? He’s seen it happen, seen corpses with tented trousers, knows enough about death and dying to think that maybe he’s already passed, already halfway to Hades. 

_Theseus. Are you—_

No, he isn’t well, he’s the farthest possible thing from it; all his blood burns just below the surface and he is alternately wracked with chills and sweat, feverish and tormented and he is still so hard. 

_Are you—_

_Please. Don’t. You can’t_

It’s just the smallest, briefest brush of skin, just a single fingertip on his arm below the sleeve of his tunic, but it’s like a dam breaking. He breathes out wet and harsh and spit flies from him with the force of it; he turns and has you on the ground before you can even blink. His eyes are pits; his whole body is heaving with pain and the effort of holding back and with— with need, it must be, with a ferociously pulsating animal wildness that has him reaching for you even as he tries his best to claw himself back. 

_Go,_ he says with his last wavering shred of self control _. I can’t-- I can't hold back._ But you don’t, and so he doesn’t. And Theseus, sweet and careful Theseus who brought you flowers once with the stems torn and his fingernails still stained green, Theseus who stroked your hair and let you lean against him in the dark and tearful nights when all was surely lost— this Theseus, your Theseus— is gone, given over to raw animal need. 

_I want, I want it,_ he says without knowing what _it_ is. He can’t think, can’t do anything except rut into empty air as he’s trying so desperately to get you free of your clothes; your hands move to help but become tangled in his movements, and when your arms become trapped in your sleeves he leaves them there. _Stay,_ he growls, and the poison is fully inside him now. It drives him to lay you bare, and to try to do the same to himself; he cannot, he cannot take the time and so he grips his tunic at the chest and tears, splitting linen. But he is free, he is naked, he is hard, so very hard, livid and ferocious as he parts your thighs with bruising fingers, as he hauls your legs up and over his shoulders. 

And this is not the first time you wanted, or the first time you deserved, but it’s the first time you’re going to get. Theseus is big on all counts; if he could, he’d take hours readying you to take him. If this were how he’d planned it, he would light the lantern with the perforated shade, and under its flickering golden constellations he would kiss you breathless and open you slowly on his hand. 

But this isn’t how he’d planned. It’s burning and aching and there's a sudden rush of guilt across his face when he’s fully seated in you and the haze lifts for just a moment. It’s guilt, and then it’s gone as the poison pulls him under and he is lost. He has you folded like a book with your legs about your ears; he leans down over you and is so unimaginably deep inside. And he doesn't last, he can't possibly; he comes with a breathless grimace-- and he is still terribly, painfully hard. But he holds himself there for a little while, making sure his seed stays deep. And Theseus, please, are you-- but he's moving again, soreness spangling each movement with little shards of light across your vision. You weren't ready for him, how could you have been?

But with movement comes a growing pleasure, his way slicked with seed and liquid need. It comes with a gradual opening of your body to him anyway, as you stretch to accomodate his girth. And he comes, again and again, until his seed seeps out with every thrust, until sweat falls from the bridge of his nose into your open mouth, until the endless motion has that warm golden feeling beginning to coil in your belly. And when at last it becomes more than you can take, when that coil opens and you shudder apart around him, Theseus follows you down. And this time, when he stills, he stays still. 

And when he pulls free at last it's with a rush of fluid in his wake and a wince at the soreness of his cock; startled and guilty, he looks up at you and asks at last _are you alright_ with clarity at last; he's still muzzy with the poison's strangeness, but somehow it's begun to work its way out. _Thank you, _he says, as though you ever would have run from him. _Might've been better if you had.___

___In the end, it's not your place to choose. Give me the agency at least to have made that decision on my own._ _ _

__And he is chastised; he turns away to look for something to clean the two of you. It'll be his tunic, ruined beyond repair; he will clean you with tenderness, with his tongue when the rasp of cloth becomes too much for your sensitive flesh. He will bring you flowers, and you will talk, and he will listen. And maybe, given time, he will light the lamp and watch its constellations overhead as you ride him slow. But that is for another day._ _


End file.
